|
|
|
 |
|
|
| Break Your Heart |
| Words and Music by Steven Page |
|
| The bravest thing I've ever done |
| Was to run away and hide |
| But not this time, not this time |
| And the weakest thing I've ever done |
| Was to stay right by your side |
| Just like this time, and every time |
| I couldn't tell you I was happy you were gone |
| So I lied and said that I missed you when we were apart |
| I couldn't tell you so I had to lead you on |
| But I didn't mean to break your heart |
|
| And if I always seemed distracted |
| Like my mind is somewhere else |
| That's because it's true, yes it's true |
| It's this stupid pride that makes me feel |
| Like I have to follow through |
| Even half-assedly, loving you |
| Why must I always speak in terms of cowardice? |
| When I guess I should have just come out and |
| Told you right from the start |
| Why must I always tell you all I want is this? |
| I guess 'cause I didn't want to break your heart |
|
| And you said What'd you thing that I was gonna do |
| Curl up and die just because of you? |
| I'm not that weak, you know |
| What'd you think that I was gonna do, |
| Try to make you love me as much as I love you? |
| How could you be so low? |
| You arrogant man, |
| What do you think that I am? |
| My heart will be just fine |
| Just stop wasting my time |
|
| And now I know that you will be okay, |
| And that I got what I want and that's rid of you |
| Good-bye |
| And it's not 'cause I'll be missing you |
| That makes me fall apart |
| It's just that I didn't mean to break |
| No, I didn't mean to break |
| Your heart |
|
| I Know |
| Words & Music by Steven Page & Ed Robertson |
|
| I know why I like you |
| It's cause of your clothing and your haircut |
| And 'cause you're racist. |
| I have a match; your face, |
| My asking you questions you can't answer. |
| You want to box me? |
|
| Our world works in a weird way |
| I've heard them say a man with a beard may |
| Frighten children or dogs |
| But a moustache scares me more. |
|
| I know why you bite me |
| It's cause of your instincts and your canines |
| And 'cause I kicked you. |
| I have a bone to pick; |
| Please go on the paper and fetch me my slippers |
| And stop meowing. |
|
| Man's best friend wags his tail and |
| Bares his teeth to the man with the mail and |
| Though he's frightened of thunder he never goes to war. |
|
| Tell me what's the circumstance of circumcision? |
| And what goes in my daughter's pants is whose decision? |
| I've seen the facts of inter-race relations, |
| Of see-through slacks, of cyber-masturbation; |
| If a hundred monkeys each could get their own show, |
| Perhaps one day a chimp might say |
| "You have faith, you just need to use it sayeth the Lord" |
|
| I know why I like you |
| It's cause of your sandals and your supper |
| And 'cause you're Jesus |
| I have a match; your Dad, my dad has |
| Your picture right next to your mother's |
| And one of Charo |
|
| They hold hands up in heaven. |
| And they say that their son's name is Kevin |
| But I read in a book somewhere that his name is Jack... |
|
| This is Where it Ends |
| Words & Music by Steven Page & Ed Robertson |
|
| I don't buy everything I read, |
| I haven't even read everything I've bought. |
| I don't cry every time I bleed, |
| My eyes are dry, but they're bloodshot. |
| I have faith in medication |
| I believe in the Prozac Nation |
| You play doctor, but I've lost patience |
|
| But this is where it ends |
| This is where it ends |
| Call the police and call the press |
| But please, dear God, don't tell my friends |
| This is where it ends |
| This is where it ends |
|
| Where's my pride? Where's my self-esteem? |
| Does it show in the drinks I've bought? |
| I don't hide every time I'm seen, but I try not to get caught. |
| Make excuses for behaviour |
| Can my illness be my saviour? |
| Hid my heart while you still gave yours |
|
| She says she wants to live in a movie |
| I say I want someone else to stand behind me |
| And write it all down |
| 'cause I can't be bothered doing it myself. |
| And I don't want the responsibility of |
| proving it's importance. |
|
| I have loved and I have waited |
| Been picked up and been sedated |
| mental health is overrated |
|
| The Old Apartment |
| Words & Music by Steven Page & Ed Robertson |
|
| Broke into the old apartment |
| This is where we used to live |
| Broken glass, broke and hungry |
| broken hearts and broken bones |
| This is where we used to live |
|
| Why did you paint the walls? |
| Why did you clean the floor? |
| Why did you plaster over the hole I punched in the door? |
| This is where we used to live |
|
| Why did you keep the mousetrap? |
| Why did you keep the dishrack? |
| these things used to be mine |
| I guess they still are, I want them back |
|
| Broke into the old apartment |
| Forty-two stairs from the street |
| Crooked landing, crooked landlord |
| Narrow laneway filled with crooks. |
| This is where we used to live. |
|
| Why did they pave the lawn? |
| why did they change the locks? |
| Why did I have to break it, I only came here to talk |
| This is where we used to live |
|
| How is the neighbor downstairs? |
| How is her temper this year? |
| I turned up your TV and stomped on the floor just for fun |
| I know we don't live here anymore |
| We bought an old house on the Danforth |
| She loves me and her body keeps me warm |
| I'm happy here |
| But this is where we used to live |
|
| Broke into the old apartment |
| Tore the phone out of the wall |
| Only memories, fading memories |
| Blending into dull tableaux |
|
| I want them back |
| I want them back |
|
| Straw Hat and Old Dirty Hank |
| Words & Music by Steven Page & Ed Robertson |
|
| I tend the wheat field that makes your bread. |
| I bind the sweet veal, pluck the hens that make your bed. |
| Mother Nature & Mother Earth |
| Are two of three women who dictate what I'm worth |
|
| Chorus: |
| I'm the farmer. |
| I work in the fields all day. |
| Don't mean to alarm her, |
| But I know it was meant to be this way. |
|
| You cried a tear, I wiped it dry |
| I put you up upon a pedestal so high |
| if you should waiver, if you should sway |
| I'd catch you, spread my tiny wings and fly away. |
| You signed your picture with an O and X |
| I bet you don't write "love" each time you sign your cheques. |
|
| Chorus |
|
| All of this corn I grow I grow it all for you |
| I took a hatchet to the radio I did it all for you |
| You could have written back, |
| You could have said "Thank you" |
| I guess you've got better things, |
| better things to do. |
|
| You say you love me, is that the truth? |
| Although they've heard the songs, |
| My friends want living proof. |
| I know your address, I ring the bell |
| I bring you flowers and a .22 with shells. |
|
| I'm the farmer |
| I work in the fields all day |
| Never wanted to harm her |
| But I know it was meant to be this way. |
|
